Zane did not remember unlocking the car. His fingers must have moved, but he could not feel them. His body seemed to have slipped into some ancient form of autopilot, the kind a man falls into when survival takes over and thinking becomes too dangerous to survive. The world around him blurred into fragments of motion and sound, shadows dragging across the pavement, the metallic click of the gate sealing behind him, the cold night air brushing across his skin without permission. None of it truly registered. Everything felt distant, as though he were watching someone else wear his body and walk through the aftermath of his life.
